Wed, 2:55 pm: Sweet Christmas. I think there may actually be a fight
over the order of the boarding line for my flight. Some crap about the
people in line all sitting along a row of chairs. Please. Because
nothing says "mature adult" like calling dibs.

(Hey, is Uma Thurman still single? Because if she is, I call dibs. And
maybe I wasn't offered the job at CCSN because I failed to call dibs.)

While I, as a single, solo traveler don't have a problem with Southwest
Airlines' first-come-first-served seating policy, I guess there are bugs
to be worked out. Or maybe in Utah, "standing in line" does, in fact,
mean sitting in a seat two seats away from someone else in a seat four
feet from the last person actually STANDING UP at the END of a visible
LINE. Because, actually, my usual clue as to the location of the end of
a line is to look for the line of people, and then see where it ends.
Apparently, I take these things too literally.

And, yes, I am going on about this a bit. Partly because it's absurd,
but mostly because I'm now in the air with nothing but my PDA, and I
can't sleep because I ended up having coffee with someone at the
airport, which is how I ended up at the end of the line anyway.

(Not that I stepped in front of anyone. I always intended to let the
whole world get on the plane before me. I just watched the fireworks.)
Composed on my palmtop; posted whenever I remember to synch to the
desktop.